


Stand in the Light

by spacehopper



Category: Horizon: Zero Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:44:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/pseuds/spacehopper
Summary: Five times Aloy left, and one time she stayed.





	Stand in the Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



Aloy would never get used to walking up the steps to the Sun-King’s Palace. One of the guards nodded at her in recognition, so she gave a small wave, then winced. Really reinforcing the savage Nora with no civilized manners stereotype there. Not that she heard it much these days. Saving the city, the entire Sundom, tended to get you a bit more respect. And reverence. And fear. One of the servants met her eyes briefly, then scurried away. Aloy sighed, then smiled as she was met by Marad.

“The Sun-King will see you now.”

“Sorry for the last minute request, it’s just I received a call, and I thought I better not just disappear.” CYAN had contacted her via her Focus, saying she’d received another attempt at contact from what might be one of Gaia’s former subfunctions. And even better, that she’d tracked it to the source. Even if it was something else, another AI or even more advanced humans, Aloy had to investigate. For her own curiosity, if nothing else. 

“The Sun-King appreciates the courtesy.” Marad executed a perfect bow, small smile on his lips. Aloy felt oddly warm. But the Sundom was always warm, nothing like the Sacred Land. And she was dressed for travel, warmer than the silks she’d wear just wandering the city. 

In truth, she could easily have left without saying anything, or simply sent word. She wasn’t one of the Vanguard, or even one of Avad’s ordinary subjects. There was no reason she had to report. But it felt right, if kind of strange. She still wasn’t used to anyone but Rost caring where she went and why she left. And without Rost to care—

Aloy shook her head. Too much time dwelling on dark thoughts, and nothing ever got done. She had moved forward. Was moving forward. It was what Rost would have wanted, what Elizabeth would have done, what Gaia made her for. And part of that was finding new people. Not that she’d ever thought the Sun-King would be one of them. 

As they entered the patio where Avad usually met her, she found him engrossed in something. Marad cleared his throat. 

“Aloy.” Avad rose as he spotted her, small smile on his lips. He had a book in one hand, and a pen in the other. 

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” She nodded the book. His eyes widened slightly, and he quickly shut it and set it aside. 

“Nothing important.” At her inquiring look, he added, after a brief hesitation, “Poetry. I find it can be relaxing, though I rarely have time. Do the Nora have poetry?”

He waved her to a seat, and dismissed the guards and Marad. She perched on the edge, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. “They might. But Rost wasn’t big on it, and I didn’t grow up in the villages.”

“Ah, yes. You were—” He looked like he wanted to try and console her. Aloy shoved down the immediate irritation. He wasn’t Nora. He didn’t know. 

“Outcast. Look, it doesn’t matter. I came here because I wanted to let you know I’m leaving.”

Avad didn’t stiffen. He stilled, holding himself back until he knew how to respond. Probably the sort of thing you learned quickly, if you were royalty. Particularly with a father like Jiran. 

“Of course.” He stood with easy grace, walking to his balcony, a dark figure backlit by the setting sun. After a moment, he turned back to Aloy with a smile on his lips. “And what crisis are you putting an end to this time?”

“CYAN called. She received contact from another being like Hades.” She’d gotten used to phrasing it in terms people understood. Avad had none of the superstitions of the Banuk or the Nora, and she didn’t think he even really believed in the Carja worship of the sun. But even the Oseram sometimes had trouble understanding. 

“An Artificial Intelligence, created by the Old Ones.” At her look of surprise, he laughed. “I do listen, you know. And while I don’t understand it like you or some of the scholars, I do read what you’ve written, the reports you’ve found.” 

“Do your advisers know you’re so well read?” On one hand, this all could simply be Avad wanting to know more about the threats against the Sundom. And yet—

“I think they believe it would be better if I spend slightly more time reading texts relevant to ruling the Sundom.” He shrugged. “But everyone needs a hobby.”

“I thought it was poetry.” She nodded at the book, and adjusted her bow. The sun was low in the sky, and twilight was fast encroaching. She needed to go, to use the cover darkness provided. 

“You won’t tell Marad?” He held out a hand to her, palm up. Was she supposed to take it? Was this some Carja custom she’d missed? She realized she was staring as he withdrew it. He hid his disappointment well, but not quite well enough.

It was time for her to go.

“Only if you promise to let me see some of your poetry.” She’d never had much interest, but it was something else to focus on. A neutral topic. 

“When you return, then.” His voice rose at the end, making it almost a question. Aloy took a step back, and nodded.

And then she left, like she always had before. 

*

“My apologies, but the Sun-King is currently occupied.”

Aloy didn’t know the man, some adviser she hadn’t met, or another hanger-on, sucking up Avad’s time. From the way he was looking down at her, she guessed the latter. But there was no point in arguing. She’d just come back later, or go through Erend if that failed. 

“Just let him know I stopped by.” The man’s eyes drifted down to her shirt, and she self-consciously tugged the folds closer. Maybe she should’ve changed before coming to the palace, but it’d seemed like what Avad would’ve wanted, to hear about her travels as soon as possible. And who was this man to judge? He probably hadn’t hunted a single machine, or even a rabbit. She stood up straighter, making sure he could see the twist of a scar where her shirt was cut away. 

“Certainly.” The way he said it, there was no way Avad was hearing about her visit. She’d definitely be going to Erend. 

“Thanks. See you.” She was turning to leave when she heard a voice.

“Aloy, wait!”

Vanasha was standing behind the courtier, waving her into the palace. Behind her, Aloy could just make out Avad, clad in formal attire. He remained where he was, but Vanasha walked forward, brushing past the courtier, who stiffened.

“The Sun-King looks forward to hearing your report, as he requested before you departed.” Which wasn’t how Aloy remembered it. Politics, then. “Please follow me.”

Aloy couldn’t quite keep down the smug smile that graced her lips as the courtier glared. The Nora Savage wasn’t doing too badly, was she. Asshole.

“Aloy.” Avad stood to greet her, completely ignoring Vanasha, who sighed knowingly. “I was happy to hear of your return, and I hope you’re bringing good news.”

“And you wanted to escape whatever that noble was after.” Vanasha snorted, confirming her suspicions. “Can’t say I blame you.”

“You so often bring such significant news, I’ll admit, you’re a convenient excuse. But I do want to hear about your latest adventures. Were you successful in finding the AI?”

Aloy waved away the wine she was offered, and launched into her story. She’d found Demeter, who had been responsible for the metal flowers, and was the first subfunction she’d encountered that seemed to be benevolent. Demeter mourned Gaia’s loss, and after Aloy was sure of her good intentions, had been happy to receive a response from CYAN. And as always, she encountered strange new machines and people along the way. As she told her story, Avad stared at her with rapt attention, only occasionally stopping her to ask questions. He seemed knowledgeable, but it was almost entirely academic.

“You didn’t get out much, do you?” She wanted to take it back as soon as she said it, but Avad didn’t seem offended, the smile he offered bittersweet.

“The only adventure I’ve ever had was ending my father’s reign. And I’d rather not repeat that. Otherwise I’ve spent the majority of my life behind Meridian’s walls. Since the Derangement, even travel within the Sundom is deemed too dangerous.” He sounded wistful, eyes focused on the mountains far behind Aloy. Wistful, but resigned.

“And if anything happened to you, the Sundom could collapse.” 

“Itamen is still too young, and I have no other heir. I hope now it could survive without me, but it would me precarious. And I would not wish the life of a boy king on Itamen again.”

“He’s a sweet kid.” At Vanasha’s encouragement, she’d visited him and Nasadi. Both seemed far happier in Meridian than they had been with the Shadow Carja. She’d even brought him a toy from the Banuk, to his utter delight. 

“He is. I had little chance to get to know him, when my father ruled. He often worried about collusion and conspiracy, so I was kept as far away from Itamen and his mother as possible.” His expression darkened, and Aloy tightened her hands in her lap, resisting the urge to reach out. If he’d been Erend, she might have. Or Talanah. But Avad was the Sun-King. And Avad was different. 

“How could Itamen have conspired?” Not that a madman like Jiran would’ve cared about the logic of it. 

“My father was not a sane man, Aloy,” Avad said, confirming what she’d thought. “I believe he thought Itamen might be corrupted. I was not under direct suspicion, not like my older brother. But my father did not trust me.”

This conversation had taken a darker turn than she’d intended. Avad had enough to worry about. _Aloy_ had enough to worry about. She’d come here for a break, to see a person she’d begun to consider a friend. There had to be something to lighten the mood.

“Didn’t you promise to show me your poetry?” The same book was sat on the small table next to him, and Avad glanced at it nervously. Then he sighed.

“What is a king, if now bound by his word?” He handed the book over to her. As Aloy opened the book, he asked, “When do you leave?”

Not if. When. But she couldn’t exactly argue the point. She let the book fall to the side. 

“Sunrise, two days from now.” Demeter knew where she might find Apollo, and she had to pursue the lead while it lasted. 

Avad bowed his head, and said, “May the sun light your path.”

*

“Why haven’t you done anything about the Shadow Carja?” It was more forceful than Aloy intended, punctuated by the paper she slammed onto the table. A report from Avad’s spy, taken from her body. “You know what they’re doing. Your people are suffering, you’re just leaving them?”

“Aloy—” He remained seated, back straight, face blank. 

“Look, I know you prefer diplomacy. That you want peace. But sometimes you can’t wait. You have to act.” She’d stormed past the guards to get here, the words she’d read echoing in her mind. _As I requested before, Your Radiance, please send aid. Your army could crush the remaining Shadow, and bring these people into the Light._ “She died for this.” Aloy tapped the paper for emphasis. “Are you going to ignore her?”

“I will make sure she is honored as a hero, and that her family is compensated for her loss.” Avad took the paper, scanning it carefully. “But I won’t send soldiers, Aloy.”

“Why not?” The Shadow Carja remnants were desperate, taking food from the poor people unlucky enough to live in the shrinking territory they controlled, plucking children off the streets to serve as soldiers. Too many for Aloy to fight on her own, unless she somehow managed to figure out how to control an army of machines. But not too many for Avad. “They’re your people. They need you.” Rost’s words echoed in her mind. _I never said the tribe wouldn’t need you._ In a way, the Carja had become her tribe. But she wasn’t the one they needed. 

Avad closed his eyes, and seemed to shrink, shoulders slumping.

“I know. But I cannot answer this with violence unless there is no other way. Too long have the Carja relied on blood. We have to learn other ways.” 

“Sometimes there are no other ways.” 

Avad looked up and met Aloy’s eyes. Not angry. But some mix of sad and strangely bitter. “I killed my father in this palace because he would not listen to reason. I still wonder sometimes, what if I’d acted sooner? Had Kadaman not confronted him and been killed, would I have done anything at all? Or would I have kept to my books, looking for another way?” His voice rose as he said it, and Aloy took a step back.

“But,” he said, more quietly now, “war is what my father would have chosen. And even if I doubt, it is not a path I will take until all other options have been exhausted.”

“It’s easy, isn’t it? To take the high ground when you’re in a palace, far above all the people that high ground hurts.” Staring up at mountains, and wondering why no one cared at all. 

“It isn’t easy.” He wasn’t looking at her now. He was looking at that last report from his spy. She bit back everything she wanted to say. It wouldn’t matter anyway. People in power never listened.

“I’m leaving. If you won’t help them, I will.” 

He didn’t try and call her back.

*

Halfway down the road back to Shadow Carja territory, Aloy nocked an arrow and stared hard down the path behind her. Someone was following. Someone who wanted her to know.

“Vanasha,” she said, lowering her bow as she came within the circle of the fire. She was dressed in poor clothes, nothing like her usual vibrant attire. The sort of clothes that would let her blend in with the Carja peasants. “Did he send you after me?”

“He sent me to help,” Vanasha said with an elegant shrug, the rippling grace of a Stalker. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Better than nothing, I guess.” Aloy slumped to the ground and stared into the fire. She regretted, a bit, what she’d said. It was Avad’s tribe, and she’d never made many attempts to interfere. Not until now. “The longer I’m here, the more it feels—”

“Like home?” Aloy couldn’t make out her face through the flames, but she imagined Vanasha was giving her a knowing look. Which was irritating, because she was right. Her fingers tangled in the scrub below her, dry and tough, so different from the vegetation in the Sacred Land. She laid back, staring up at the endless expanse of sky, stars dim and covered by the smoke.

“Can you really help?” Aloy couldn’t quite keep the hope out of her words, the childish desire for Vanasha to assure her that yes, everything would be okay. Like Rost had, when she was a child, so far away from here. 

“I think I might be able to do something. Maybe not what you want.” Aloy could practically hear Vanasha’s smile, even if she couldn’t see it. “But that’s how these things work. Compromise.”

Aloy didn’t think Vanasha was only talking about politics, or diplomacy, or the Shadow Carja. But that was a problem for the morning. She curled onto her side and went to sleep, and above her, the stars shone brighter. 

*

“Aloy.” He began walking towards her, one hand extended. Normally she would’ve stepped back, but now she continued forward. It was reckless impulse to take his hand, and from the way he started, he hadn’t expected it. But it only threw him off for a moment. 

“Look, I understand—” 

“You were right about conditions there, but—”

“Vanasha said things are improving—”

Marad cleared his throat, and they both turned as one. The look he was giving them was gallingly knowing, and Aloy dropped Avad’s hand as if burned. Avad, far more practiced at maintaining his image, simply nodded at Marad, who left with a smile. 

“Well, then.” Now that they were alone, Avad’s discomfort was evident. Which made Aloy feel a bit less like the savage so many Carja still saw her as, or worse, some idiot overwhelmed by the radiance of the great Sun-King. “I. Did it go well? That is, I know from Vanasha’s report—”

“I’m leaving.” She had to say it, or somehow she’d be talked into doing one more quest, one more good deed. And she’d be happy to, spending more time among the people she’d come to see as almost family, in a place that was increasingly like a home. But she knew she couldn’t. Not yet. “Everything is in place. I’ve completed the upgrades on CYAN, after getting the part I needed from Shadow Carja territory.” Not that there should be any Shadow Carja territory, but now wasn’t the time. “I think I can leash the violent subfunctions to CYAN with the help of the more benevolent ones.” Demeter, Apollo, Eleuthia and Minerva. Enough, she hoped, to control the rest. 

“Is it dangerous?” He wouldn’t meet her eyes. 

“Is that a serious question?” Her lips quirked into a smile, but Avad didn’t smile back, stepping past her to rest a hand on the balcony. “Hey, it’s not like this is the first dangerous thing I’ve done.”

“No.” He still didn’t turn, so Aloy rested a hand on his shoulder. His skin was warm, soft against the rough pads of her fingers. She wondered if all his skin was like this, conditioned and kept by servants and retainers. Guiding with words, and not a spear. Her hand tightened, and Avad turned. “But it’s different. It shouldn’t be, but it is.” He placed his own hand over hers. “I know you have to do it, and I wouldn’t dare stop you.”

“Not like you could,” Aloy said. She’d meant it as a joke, but Avad nodded solemnly. 

“If I could, you wouldn’t be Aloy. You’re free like no one I’ve ever met.” His eyes were warm, and the setting sun bathed him in red. 

And he was wrong.

“I was born for a purpose. Just like you. Sure, mine involves a bit more fighting, wandering the wilds and exploring old ruins.” They were close, too close, but she couldn’t look away. “My mother, my mothers. They’re my past, and they made my future.” Gave her life and gave her a path to follow.

“But you choose it. You could leave it all behind.” And as he said it, she understood. She could. Someone else would step up, and they’d try. And maybe they’d even succeed. 

“So could you.” But neither of them would, because this might be what they were born into, but it was also what they chose. To stand where others couldn’t. And maybe that was why she leaned closer, meeting his eyes and watching them widen as Meridian glowed behind them. Close enough that his breath was hot against her cheeks, and she really hoped that no servant chose this moment to come by and offer a drink.

But the low whistle that cut through the silence could only be Vanasha. 

Alow stumbled back, and even Avad couldn’t compose himself quickly enough, straightening his ceremonial garb all while looking anywhere but Aloy. She wanted to flee, maybe leave Meridian and never return. The Banuk would probably take her, and if not, CYAN would be happy of her company. But no, that was the coward’s way out. She turned to Vanasha, who winked. Aloy hoped the sunlight hid her blush, and wished she had Avad’s darker skin. Then Vanasha turned to Avad and said, “I have a report for you.”

All things Aloy already knew, about the aid being smuggled in, the people being smuggled out to farms and towns and Meridian itself. Weakening the Shadow Carja bit by bit, until they would accept the peaceful solution Avad so dearly desired. Aloy still wasn’t sure, the cost of lives lost weighed against those wasted by inaction. And now she knew Avad wasn’t sure either. But he tried. And it was more than most.

So she sat and waited as the sun went down, and when Vanasha left, Aloy left with her. 

“I’ll see you at sunrise,” Avad said. He didn’t say which sunrise, and Aloy didn’t ask. It sounded like a prayer, and for once, she didn’t mind. She nodded, and took her leave, and walked into the setting sun. 

*

Avad had a long slash on his arm she bound with a ragged piece of silk, and a bruise under his eye she touched lightly before she could think better of it. He winced when she did it, but it didn’t disturb the smile he’d worn since she’d cut him loose, in the dark hours before the dawn.

“Apparently I have a smart mouth,” he said, as she wrapped her arm around his waist and helped him stumble from the basement. He smelled rank, so different from his usual light perfume. And it didn’t change anything. 

“You? Really?” It was hard to imagine the quiet, polite Avad taunting his captors. But then it seemed they hadn’t realized they had the Sun-King himself, rather than some high ranking lackey. A boon, really. If they’d known who he was, they might’ve killed him, or attempted to use him to bargain. 

“Maybe I learned it from you.” She left him leaning against the wall, and hefted her spear, eying the door in front of them. She’d come through the ceiling, but in his state, Avad wasn’t getting back out that way. She shoved the point in under the lock, and pressed down hard on the shaft. 

“I could leave you here.” She grunted with effort. Some poor Oseram had made the lock, which meant it was actually decent. 

“But you won’t.” 

The lock broke, and she pushed the door open before turning back to Avad. His ankle seemed to be injured as well, hopefully just sprained and not broken. Not that it’d matter a lot, since being Sun-King didn’t usually involve a lot of walking. Speaking of which—

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

“I told you I’d see you at sunrise.” She glared, and he relented. “I hoped that I could negotiate a ceasefire, and that my presence might bring success where other attempts had failed.” So he had listened to her. Or at least partially.

“I told you to send soldiers. Bit different.” Even worse, it sounded like he’d been somewhat evasive about his plans to the soldiers who were supposed to protect him. Erend had been as shocked as Aloy, that Avad had gone himself. Called him a reckless idiot. He’d almost sounded fond. It made Aloy wonder, then, what he’d been like when they’d stormed the city. 

Avad shrugged, and it pressed his body closer, bringing her out of her thoughts. “You told me to take action.”

“This is not—” They reached the road, and she guided him to a flat boulder, where he sat with a wince. “This is not what I meant, and you know it.” 

“Let me rule my kingdom, Aloy.” Exhaustion colored his voice, and for the first time since she’d gotten here, she actually pitied him. Returning to Meridian triumphant and finding Avad missing had been a whirlwind of emotions. Fear, anger, determination. Elation when she found him. But now she sat next to him on the rock, and found it all drained away. 

Aloy was just glad she’d found him in time. She still remembered Ersa, and how Avad had broken a little, under the weight of lost hope. 

“And get yourself killed?” she said, more out of sheer habit than any real anger. It was the sort of thing she’d have done, or close enough to it. He seemed to understand, and after a moment, sighed and leaned against her. She stiffened in surprise, but before he could pull away, her arm was around his shoulders, awkward and graceless. But hopefully still appreciated. 

“We should talk, Aloy. Before we go back.” Talking. 

Talk. That was Avad’s area, not hers. Words, and how they were shaped. 

“I never got to read it.” 

“Read what?” His eyes were closed. 

“Your poetry. You swore I could.” She kept her tone light and teasing. He needed it, right now.

“And the Sun-King is nothing if not his word. Though I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s about you.” He pulled away, just a bit, and met her eyes. Aloy couldn’t look away. “I compared your hair to a sunset.”

“That’s—” Stupid. Ridiculous. She swallowed the words, but she could tell he knew what she’d been about to say. “That’s not bad.

In a scant handful of minutes, Erend would arrive, charging ahead of the Vanguard and a legion of Carja soldiers. Aloy had only found Avad by chance. 

She’d learned to take her chances the hard way.

“I was hoping, when we returned to Meridian—mmph.” He tried to keep talking as she kissed him, making an already awkward kiss almost unbearable. She’d barely kissed more than a handful of people, and it was unlikely he’d been with anyone since Ersa. But as he put a gentle hand with soft fingers on her cheek, it seemed like he remembered. And Aloy had always been a fast learner.

“Aloy!” 

“Ah, you brought the Vanguard,” Avad murmured. They were still close enough that his words brushed against her lips, and she pulled away reluctantly. It was a mess, dangerous and sloppy. If he’d been anyone but the Sun-King. Anyone but Avad. 

But would she be here if he wasn’t?

“I have to go. Erend will take it from here.” Spear on her back, and whistle to call a Strider, to take her down the road. 

“See you in Meridian?”

Her back was already to him, and the Vanguard on the horizon. But she still turned, and pressed a kiss against his temple.

“Always.”

*

Aloy hoped Avad would forgive her the grooves cut into the walls. Or rather that the workmen who’d have to fix them would forgive her. She’d have to make sure Avad gave them some sort of bonus, or a day off. The high and mighty often forgot that sort of thing. 

As she tugged herself over the edge of the wall, she also made a mental note to tell Erend about this gap in security. If she could scale the walls using this handy tool she’d gotten in the Cut, then so could someone else. And that person might be here to kill Avad, not for, well. Other reasons.

Despite the cool night, Aloy’s cheeks heated as she crept along the narrow balcony. She eyed the ledge under the window. A bit of a jump, but she should be able to make it.

She threw herself forward, time seeming to slow as she reached for the corner. She never felt more alive than times like this, flinging herself into danger to discover some mystery at the other end. As her fingers caught the rough stone, she grunted, and heard movement inside the room.

“Not an assassin,” she said. The movement stopped, and she pulled herself up onto the narrow stretch of stone. As she pushed aside the thin curtains, she found herself face to face with Avad, dressed only in thin silk pants. She tried and failed not to stare, but then he wasn’t doing so great himself on that front. 

“You really need to improve your security,” she said, dropping to the floor.

“Clearly.” Avad stepped aside to allow her to go further into the room. Some sort of living area, not a bedroom, which meant he hadn’t been asleep. “Though I think you’re far more skilled than most assassins.” 

“Probably, but don’t count on it.” She watched as he made his way to a small table, and poured her a glass of water. She took it gratefully. It wasn’t easy, scaling the Palace of the Sun.

“So, was there a reason for your unorthodox visit? Not that I’m not happy to see you.” He was holding back, like he always did. All she needed to do was make her move, and then he’d follow. And it felt right. She still wasn’t sure what to do with that. 

“You still have that opening in your Vanguard?” Aloy tossed back the rest of the water, watching out of the corner of her eye as Avad carefully set the pitcher back down. With measured steps he crossed the room, and took her elbow gently in hand. 

“Aloy. You know if you do this, it will tie you here. I’ll need to know what you’re doing. You’ll have duties and obligations.” 

She almost couldn’t bear the look in his eyes. Her stomach was in knots, but she’d made her choice. And she’d never been one to think once she’d already taken the leap.

“I’ll have a home.” Rough palms against his neck, but he didn’t seem to mind, following her down and weaving his fingers in her hair. 

“You’ll have a place here for as long as you desire. A place in Meridian.” His eyes darted briefly away, before coming back to rest on her. “And a place in my heart.”

“As long as I don’t have to listen to your poetry.” He laughed, a quiet thing. Wouldn’t do to alert the guards. Not yet. 

“It’s a deal.”

A Nora brave. That was what she’d always dreamed of. In the end, this wasn’t so different from what Rost had shown her, all those years ago. The strength to stand alone was the strength to take a stand, whether in the forests of the Sacred Land, or on the towering walls of Meridian. 

Here, she’d found a purpose. And a reason not to leave.


End file.
